


Love Alters Not

by HowNowWit



Series: Clexa Week 2018 [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: A day late I know, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clexa, Clexa Week 2018, Day 2 - Constantly Mistaken for a Couple, Day 6 - Famous, F/F, Famous, Friends to Lovers, also, mostly fun, slow burn (?), soft clexa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 17:39:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13862631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowNowWit/pseuds/HowNowWit
Summary: Clexa Week 2018. Combination of prompts "Famous" and "Constantly Mistaken for a Couple."Up-and-coming actress Lexa Woods costars with Clarke Griffin on the new crime drama Locked and Loaded. The two became fast friends during season one. Nearing the end of season two, a routine encounter at an unassuming cafe launches Lexa into a spotlight she wasn't ever expecting to navigate, least of all with her straight best friend.Total chapter count and rating may change.





	Love Alters Not

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoy! Please feel free to comment or send me questions. I'm on tumblr at hownowwit1.tumblr.com.

_Cassidy needs to get her act together and ask her out already. #LockedandLoaded_

 

_Did you see that look last ep? Rachel obviously loves her *wink wink*_

 

_Hey writers! Get your heads out of your asses and notice the f*cking chemistry. #Cashel_

 

Lexa winced and closed the app. “People can be rather violent in their opinions on Twitter.”

 

“It’s the digital age.” Clarke swiped a cut of waffle through her syrup. “Manners get filtered behind firewalls and anonymity.” She popped the piece into her mouth.

 

Lexa hummed. “That’s no excuse.”

 

“Of course not.” Clarke smiled her close-mouthed smile as she chewed, gaze fond and knowing. Lexa heard the words left unsaid in the dip of her chin and the slightly lopsided tilt to her lips. The beauty mark climbed a bit higher on the right.

 

She frowned, feeling compelled to continue by the gleam of humor that brightened Clarke’s face. “A tasteful argument lends more credence to your words.”

 

Clarke nodded, schooling her face into a thoughtful pucker. “True.”

 

The humor still lingered behind Clarke’s eyes, and Lexa narrowed hers, trying to read if the playful expressions were at her expense or not. If Clarke heard her mental questions, she wasn’t sharing, but a nudge of a foot against Lexa’s shin drew a crack in her contemplative demeanor.

 

“Speaking of manners,” Raven said, “we haven’t even addressed the elephant in the room.”

 

Lexa stilled, and the chatter and shuffle of the café filtered back into her awareness with a quick blink. Laughter, the muffled scrape of chairs across linoleum. Quiet and calm, yet busy enough to provide some anonymity. Just the way Lexa liked it. Early morning sunlight filtered through the wall-length windows, the dapple of leaf shadows grazing Clarke’s forehead now and then as the trees swayed in the breeze outside.

 

She turned to Raven with a confused frown. Clarke mirrored the move.

 

“What do you mean?” Lexa asked.

 

Raven glanced from one to the other, expression turning incredulous. “The show.” She waved her hands in the air with a smile, as though to encourage their own enthusiasm. “Renewed for a third season!”

 

Lexa shared a look with Clarke across the table. Clarke half-winced and Lexa felt a brief stab of guilt.

 

Raven’s jaw dropped. “You _knew_?”

 

Clarke was quick to soothe, grasping one of Raven’s forearms on the table beside her own. “Normally we’re the last to know things, Rae. You know that. But in this case they tend to tell us whether we’re out of a job or not.”

 

“And I haven’t been perusing Help Wanted ads,” Lexa added. Clarke’s chuckle made her bite back a grin.

 

Raven crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “I don’t know why I bother.” She sniffed, feigning hurt. “It’s only the hottest crime drama on TV right now. You two are raking in the big bucks. But hey,” she shrugged, “no big deal.”

 

“C’mon, Rae,” Clarke said, elbowing the Latina in the side. “We’re sworn to secrecy. Most of the time, you know more than the fans. But there are some things we just can’t share.”

 

Raven appeared only slightly mollified, swirling her fork through the remnants of her cheese grits.

 

“Yes,” Lexa chimed in after swallowing a bite of omelet. “God forbid it leak onto that hell site.”

 

Clarke raised an eyebrow, eyes alight with amusement. A shaft of sunlight caught the angle just right, brightening the blue into the hue of a Caribbean sea. “What is it with you and Twitter?”

 

“I just don’t see the point. It’s difficult to condense anything of substance down to…what is it? Forty five characters?”

 

Clarke made a low noise in the back of her throat. “Close. One forty.”

 

Raven leaned on her elbows, grabbing Lexa’s attention. “I’ve offered to manage your Twitter account several times,” she pointed with her fork, “for free might I add, but _nooo_.” She drew out the word until Lexa could practically see the vowels rolling along the ground.

 

Leaning back to conceal herself from Raven’s peripheral, Clarke widened her eyes and shook her head in a slow, dramatic way that forced Lexa to hold back a smile.

 

“Thanks for the offer, Raven. Answer’s still no.”

 

Clarke mimed wiping sweat from her brow.

 

Raven pointed her fork at her without turning her head. “I saw that.”

 

“Maybe you should become a publicist,” Lexa offered, “since you take such an interest in promoting the show.”

 

It was certainly one of her least favorite aspects of the job, but she participated when required.

 

Raven became thoughtful, and in the pause Clarke raised her eyebrows in slow surprise. But Raven began shaking her head. “Nah. The show’s interesting and all, but I enjoy biomedical research too much.” She focused on Lexa. “But managing _your_ account? Now that’d be fun.”

 

_My account?_ Lexa wanted to ask, confused.

 

“ _Oh my God_.” The whisper was quiet, but the awed surprise still caught Lexa’s attention. She slid her eyes to the side and noted a couple of women in line at the counter staring their way. Well, staring at Clarke, to be precise. One of the women whispered to the other, their expressions becoming more enthused as recognition dawned.

 

_Damn_. _Spotted_.

 

She observed them unobtrusively for a few moments, trying to gauge what they would do. While they briefly glanced at her and Raven, their attention remained on Clarke, giving her subtle and some not-so-subtle glances as they waited in line. It was to be expected. Clarke was the more well-known of the two of them, and even in casual clothes and no makeup, she was noticeable.

 

Clarke Griffin had starred in several A-list movies in her career so far, while Lexa was an up-and-comer. Aside from some commercials and small budget TV movies in her early twenties, _Locked and Loaded_ was Lexa’s first mainstream role, co-starring as Cassidy Skye in a crime-fighting detective group alongside Clarke’s character—it was also where she had first met said famous actress. She hadn’t expected to strike up a friendship, but she was happy with how things had turned out, and was still adjusting to her blossoming popularity. She thanked God for the ability to disable notifications on apps.

 

The two women appeared discrete enough, and were keeping their distance, which boded well for her morning out. Satisfied they weren’t about to be bombarded, she tuned back into the conversation at her table

 

“—called Cashel,” Raven was saying.

 

“I always thought it sounded like a porn name,” Clarke said, tapping her fork to her chin.

 

“What?” Lexa asked. _I came back into this conversation at the wrong time_.

 

“Better than Rassidy,” Raven said with a shrug, and turned to Lexa. “Your ship name.”

 

“Ship?”

 

“On the show. Your characters.” At Lexa’s continued confusion, she sighed and continued, “I can’t believe you’re gay and you don’t know about shipping. _Clarke_ knows about shipping.”

 

“Not all gays are created equal,” Lexa said, and Clarke’s chuckle sent a happy flush through her.

 

Lexa glanced at Clarke, whose smile had become fond again, and something clicked.

 

“Oh.” She blinked, her mind processing and catching up. She’d heard that term before. “I’ve never understood the appeal of portmanteaus.”

 

Clarke tilted her head. “You don’t like the idea of two becoming one?”

 

Words were a bit inadequate to properly answer that loaded question, especially in a crowded café on a Sunday morning without time to formulate the complex response it deserved. She settled for a partial truth.

 

“Just because two people are together doesn’t mean their names should be combined. It lacks…” She didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Depth? Creativity? She couldn’t pinpoint it.

 

“It’s presumptive,” Clarke supplied, her expression engaged despite her deceptively casual slouch as she reclined in her chair. Clarke’s eyes searched hers, and she felt Clarke wouldn’t mind exploring the concept were they in a more appropriate setting. “Labels are limiting.”

 

The surge of affinity in her chest brought a reassuring warmth, and again she was struck with appreciation for their unexpected friendship.

 

Lexa smiled, basking in this mutual understanding. “Exactly.”

 

Raven cocked her head as she scrolled through her phone, and Lexa wasn’t sure she liked the contemplative glint to her eyes as she carefully set down her fork. “You know, they have a point, rabid as they are.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Some of the fans. There is chemistry between you two on screen.” She looked up from her phone and glanced between her and Clarke. “I always assumed that was on purpose.” The unasked question hung in the air.

 

“Uh…” Lexa caught Clarke’s gaze, who looked just as perplexed as her. She was at a loss. “Cassidy and Rachel are friends on the show—”

 

“Barring a few road bumps,” Clarke interjected, and Lexa shot her a grin, remembering the frustration of multiple takes and picky directors, and the difficulty of summoning anguish and rage in enough quantities to shout at Clarke’s Rachel during the _Red Handed_ episode’s misunderstanding. It turned out well, in the end, and their character arcs were stronger for the adversity.

 

“—so we incorporate that into our portrayals…”

 

“It’s part of the script?” Raven persisted. “That closeness?”

 

_Closeness…_ Lexa shifted in her seat and looked to Clarke for help. “I mean, some of it is up to our interpretation. I try to convey what Rachel means to Cassidy. She saved her life, and they’re partners in the unit.”

 

“It works,” Clarke said with finality, and Lexa gave her a small grateful smile. It felt like an interview there for a minute, and Lexa detested interviews. Besides, Raven should know this already. Yet the woman in question appeared pensive again. Heat rose in Lexa’s cheeks when her keen gaze fell on Lexa. Though she now knew Raven through Clarke, and had come to enjoy her company, the woman was still a mystery at times.

 

“Most of the time we just go with the flow,” Clarke added. “Do what feels natural for the characters. I think Bellamy and Lincoln would say the same.”

 

Lexa nodded her agreement, a short, curt movement. She was becoming irritated with the direction the morning had taken. Usually she left work at work, aside from memorizing lines. But a new episode, _Caught on Tape_ , had aired the night prior, in which Cassidy, with one witty line, had come out to her unit, and people were in a frenzy—both the good and bad kind.

 

“What if the writers decided to write the two of you together?” Raven was just all kinds of creative today.

 

“You mean romantically?” Lexa clarified.

 

At Raven’s nod, Clarke shrugged. “I’d be okay with it.”

 

The nonchalance surprised her, and Lexa stared. Of course, she supposed there wasn’t any _reason_ for her to be surprised—Clarke had shown no qualms about Lexa’s sexuality. In fact, it had never really been a topic of discussion, whether hers or anyone else’s. But accepting it in others and being willing to play gay yourself were two very different things, especially considering the impact it could have on your career.

 

Her mind traveled a brief but detailed hypothetical of all that may involve, before she closed the gates on that path with a firm turn of a lock.

 

Clarke gazed back at her, calm, expectant, mouth lifted in an easy almost-smile, and Lexa realized she and Raven were still waiting on her response. “Yeah,” she said, clearing her throat. She tried to shake off the strange emotion. “That’d be fine. Although I’m not sure the producers are that bold.”

 

“Excuse me?” The quiet, hopeful inquiry interrupted during the brief lull, and all three looked up to see a young woman standing off to the side of their table.

 

She clutched her phone in one hand, obviously nervous as she shifted from one foot to another, and hugged the other arm to her stomach. Lexa gauged her to be a few years younger than herself, probably early twenties, and by the awestruck gleam to her eyes, a fan of the show. She kept glancing from Clarke to her and back, as though unable to decide whom she wanted most to see.

 

“I’m sorry to bother you. But I couldn’t help… I mean, would it be alright if I—” She held her phone up as she stumbled over her words.

 

Clarke—ever-kind Clarke—took pity on her. “You want a picture?”

 

Lexa closed her eyes in a slow blink even as her lips turned up in a smile. There went the relaxing anonymity of the morning. Clarke caught her gaze and winked, smile cheeky, perfectly aware of the thoughts running through her head. In the end, Lexa could never begrudge her the kindness.

 

The girl’s eyes lit up. “Would you? I love the show.”

 

“Sure…” Clarke waited expectantly for a name.

 

“Megan,” the girl supplied.

 

“Alright, Megan.” She stood with a scrape of her chair. “C’mon, Lexa. Raven, you can be the photographer.”

 

“Glad to see my MIT skills are put to good use,” Raven said dryly as she took the girl’s phone.

 

Clarke rounded the table, sidling up to Lexa until the warmth of her curves pressed into her side and a blonde curl tickled her cheek. Megan was a bundle of ecstatic nerves. Her awkwardness made Lexa awkward, so she stood still, posture impeccable. Clarke positioned herself in the middle, which was a small blessing. Lexa wasn’t a fan of strangers touching her, no matter how friendly. Clarke’s arm slipped around her waist, the hold loose and casual, and fingers tapped at her hip with a gentle rhythm, encouraging coiled muscles to loosen. With a deep breath, she willed herself to relax and smile naturally, concentrating on the comfort of Clarke’s presence. A brief squeeze was her reward.

 

“Okay everyone,” Raven said, aiming the camera. “Say cheese.”

 

They posed for a few pictures—Raven a bit snap happy—before Megan broke away to check how they turned out. “Oh my gosh,” she exclaimed as she scrolled through her phone. “Thank you so much.”

 

The euphoria in her tone, and in her eyes when she looked up and Lexa happened to meet her gaze, almost made the discomfort worth it. Almost.

 

“One more,” Clarke encouraged, tugging Lexa to her again. “For posterity’s sake.”

 

Lexa laughed, half-disbelief and half-amusement, as Clarke wrapped an arm about her shoulders and Lexa slipped one around Clarke’s waist. Feeling indulgent, she turned her head to say to Clarke’s profile, “You’re incorrigible.”

 

“You love it,” was the murmured response, low and quiet, and Lexa had no argument for that.

 

It was just the two of them this time, and by now they had gathered an audience. As Megan held up the phone and counted down, blonde hair shifted in her peripheral and lips pressed to Lexa’s cheek, soft and light, just as the audible shutter click met her ears.

 

Megan’s grin was wide, but this time held an element of tenderness. Some of her nerves had dissipated, leaving instead a more genuine earnestness. Lexa liked this better—it felt more real.

 

“Thank you,” Megan said, seeming dazed.

 

“You’re welcome,” Lexa offered, and Megan glanced to Clarke and back to Lexa before she made her goodbyes.

 

She was one of the saner ones. Lexa was grateful for small mercies.

 

When they sat once more, Raven’s smirk and Clarke’s knowing smile had her at a loss.

 

“What?”

 

Clarke propped her chin in her hand, reticent, blue eyes dancing with gentle amusement. Raven was more than happy to fill the silence.

 

“Are you kidding me? She was all over you, Lexa. I might as well have been chopped liver. Obviously Cassidy’s big reveal meant a lot to her. Maybe personally.”

 

Lexa blinked. _Oh_.

 

“Really?” She looked to Clarke for confirmation, as though Raven were pulling her leg. It wasn’t too far fetched.

 

“It’s a big day.” Clarke straightened, shaking her hair from her shoulders. “A couple of pictures won’t hurt. Plus, your agent says you don’t get out enough.”

 

Her lips twisted into a wry grin. “Luna needs to stop talking to you.”

 

Despite her grumbling, her mood elevated, feeling like she had made a difference. Existing shouldn’t be something revered—it was why the more exuberant fans made her uncomfortable—but if she could make others’ lives better…then she was doing something worthwhile.

 

The many watching eyes suddenly weren’t so much of a bother. Energy renewed, she waved a hand and rose to her feet.

 

“C’mon. There’s a farmer’s market on Queens and I want to make it before they run out of fresh kale.”

 

//

 

The blare of Joplin’s _The Entertainer_ jolted her from a sound sleep. With a bleary groan, she rolled over and swatted at the nightstand until her muddled brain realized it was her phone and Clarke’s ringtone.

 

She swiped to answer with a clumsy thumb.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

The words came before she even had a chance to speak. Lexa raised her eyebrows, blinking sleep from gritty eyes. Only the faint hint of dawn peeked through the edges of her curtains, the light weak and watery against the welcome dark of her room. She struggled to formulate words as her mind transitioned from dream to reality.

 

“Do—” She cleared her throat against the rasp of her voice. “Do I want to know what it is this time?”

 

Clarke hesitated. “Have you checked your phone?”

 

“No.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Again with the apologies. They were starting to make her worry, but it was a sluggish pull compared to the lethargic drag of disturbed slumber. She searched the nightstand and slipped her glasses onto her nose. The digits on her clock coalesced into focus. 6:47. Way too early.

 

“Check your phone,” Clarke said, and the stress in her tone, deepening her already low voice into an even hoarser alto, awakened Lexa’s desire to comfort.

 

“No, wait…” She imagined Clarke biting her lip, nail picking at a seam of her jeans, the way she did when anxious.

 

Hitting speaker, Lexa scrolled through her notifications as rustlings filtered through the line. She had thirteen missed calls, twenty-one texts, and— She squinted into the brightness of the screen. Over nine hundred twitter notifications?

 

“Here.” Clarke’s voice became muffled, distant, and she heard a few taps before her phone pinged with notification of new mail. Her voice became stronger, as though returning the phone to her ear. “This one is less…incendiary.”

 

_Incendiary. Oh Lord_. Lexa slipped the hair tie from her wrist and bundled her messy curls into a loose ponytail. If ever there was a time for shitstorm hair prep, this was it. Once tamed, she opened the email. It was a link to an article on Buzzfeed. The title alone told her everything she needed to know.

 

_Girls for Griffin? – A Blossoming Romance Off Set_

 

The subtitle read: _Clarke Griffin Seen Smooching Costar Lexa Woods_

 

Beneath both, sat the picture Megan took yesterday, Lexa smiling at the camera and Clarke with her head turned, pressing a kiss to her cheek, eyes closed and the corner of her lips curled into a soft almost-smile. The quality was surprisingly good, and the lighting decent.

 

She scanned the accompanying text. The article was mostly speculation, with only a few details as to how the picture was obtained. It sounded like they cut and paste from Twitter, so Megan hadn’t sold them to the highest bidder. The rest focused on Clarke and herself, with a small blurb explaining _Locked and Loaded_ and their roles on the show.

 

She scrolled back up and stared at the picture again, noting the relaxed embrace and how she leaned slightly into Clarke’s space.

 

The ramifications of it all sank in as new Twitter banners kept unfurling from the top of her phone screen. She had over a thousand new followers. Her agent had left three voicemails.

 

The sheer absurdity bubbled into her chest and she couldn’t restrain it. She laughed.

 

Clarke, who until now had been suspiciously silent, took it as a bad sign.

 

“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I didn’t know it would—”

 

“Clarke.”

 

“—and I can get Monty to put out a statement if you—”

 

“ _Clarke_.”

 

The outpouring stopped with an audible breath, shaky on the exhale. “Yeah?”

 

Lexa pressed the phone to her ear and fell back onto her mattress, staring at the ceiling. “Never apologize for kissing me.”

 

For a beat there was only the soft sounds of Clarke breathing. Lexa matched it to her own.

 

A sigh, a shuffle that could have been a hand running through hair. “Most of the major news outlets and a few of the magazines picked up the story.” Remorse colored her voice once more. “Lexa, I didn’t mean to drag you into the tabloids.”

  

Lexa let out a small huff of laughter. “There’s a first for everything, I suppose.” Damage control, and all that may involve, lingered on the outskirts of her mind, but it was a problem that could wait until after breakfast.

 

“It might get worse,” Clarke warned.

 

“So we deal.” She was tired of the regret and guilt lacing Clarke’s voice.

 

More stunned silence—Lexa imagined drawn brows and another bitten lip. Lexa was surprised herself with how well she was taking the news. Maybe she was still in shock.

 

“Okay.” Hesitant. Then, hopeful: “Okay.”

 

Lexa pressed the phone closer to her ear. “How are _you_ holding up?”

 

A throaty laugh brought a smile to her lips. “I was more worried about how to break the news to you.”

 

“Come over,” Lexa offered, tracing imaginary constellations in the popcorn of her ceiling. “We can go for a run.”

 

The groan on the other end of the line sounded much more like the Clarke she knew. “I _knew_ it. This is punishment, right?”

 

Lexa chuckled, letting her arm flop to the side. “There’s a breakfast in it for you.”

 

The smile was back in her voice. “Be there in fifteen.”


End file.
